Ron stood beside a trash bin in the alleyway, holding a sheet of paper and some glue. He carefully pasted the paper onto the wall.
At the top of the sheet, in bold and clear lettering, were the words: "Job Recruitment Notice."
The notice read:
"Our shop is looking to hire two staff members."
"Requirements: Young, capable, and willing to endure hardship."
"Working hours: 8 AM – 12 PM, and 1 PM – 5 PM."
"Responsibilities include: Managing the shop, greeting customers, handling payments, etc."
"Wages: 5 silver coins per week, paid weekly."
"No racial restrictions. Age must be between 14 and 25 based on human legal age standards."
"Interested individuals, please visit the shop during business hours to speak directly with the owner."
At the bottom was the signature:
— Ron's Wonderful Flower Shop, Owner: Ron Andre
This job notice had actually been written with the stray child from the day before in mind. But to avoid hurting their pride and getting rejected on the spot, Ron had come up with this approach.
Since he planned to take time off to study at the Magic Academy, he wouldn't be able to keep the shop open at consistent hours.
So hiring staff was necessary.
That kid had been willing to take on three grown thugs just because Ron had treated them to a barbecue meal—that showed decent character.
Since that was the case, Ron saw no reason to look elsewhere.
This approach was far better than simply giving the child charity.
It would be a fair exchange: one side pays, the other works.
If the kid could support themselves with honest labor, there'd be no need to dig through trash just to survive.
Had it been just any regular homeless child, Ron would've at most given them a meal out of pity.
But that kid had proven themselves, so Ron was more than willing to give them a shot.
This opportunity was something they had earned.
Satisfied with how the notice looked, Ron stepped back to check that everything was in order, then headed to Lyle's BBQ shop.
"Yo, Ron!" Lyle came out from the kitchen, greeting him with his usual booming voice. "Same as usual today?"
"That's right," Ron smiled and nodded.
Lyle called out the order to the kitchen, then grabbed the shop's ledger and sat across from Ron, looking excited. "Heh, Ron, I really don't know how to thank you! Business has been booming—last night we didn't even have enough tables! Just look at these numbers!"
Ron chuckled as he took the ledger and listened to Lyle's excited chatter while flipping through it.
"You have no idea how much people love your spice mix!"
"A bunch of customers went home and started hyping up my barbecue to their friends, saying it's the best thing ever. So the past few days we've had crowds pouring in!"
"Look—three days ago, 30 silver in revenue. The day before yesterday? 50 silver. And yesterday—100 silver coins in a single night!"
"Add it all up, and it's more than I used to make in half a month!"
Ron congratulated him with a smile. "Glad to hear business is going well. That puts my mind at ease."
"It's all thanks to you!" Lyle beamed.
"You were the one with the sharp eye—you discovered the value of my seasoning." Ron shook his head with a laugh. "It was a fair deal, Lyle. Your booming business is all your own doing."
"Heheh…" Lyle scratched his balding head, a little embarrassed. "Then let's call it a team effort."
Ron didn't mind. After all, the profit from selling a single Nether Orchid was more than what Lyle made in an entire month, even with business booming.
Not to mention Lyle's figures were revenue, not profit. Ron's sales were pure profit, with no cost whatsoever.
So he naturally didn't care much about how the barbecue shop did.
Still, seeing Lyle's place grow more popular made Ron happy for his friend.
After finishing his meal, Ron returned to his flower shop. On the way, he glanced into the alley but didn't see the stray child.
He didn't think much of it and went upstairs to his study to read.
…
Late at night.
Under the pale moonlight, a lone figure made her way down the street.
Nora, limping slightly, arrived at the alley between the BBQ shop and the flower shop and began rummaging through the trash bin.
Yesterday, one of the thugs had kicked her in the knee.
It hadn't felt too bad at the time, but when she woke up this morning, the pain was intense—so bad she could hardly walk. It wasn't until nightfall that she could manage a few steps.
This wasn't the first time something like this had happened. With her constitution, another day or so, and she'd be mostly healed.
By midnight, the pain had lessened, but her hunger had grown unbearable. So she crawled out of the broken shack she called home and came back to the street to look for food.
Unfortunately, the prime scavenging hours had already passed. Most places she usually relied on had already been picked clean by others.
She was left to dig through scraps of scraps.
Following habit, she returned to the alley between the flower shop and the BBQ joint and checked the trash bin—but found very little.
She'd expected as much and wasn't disappointed.
Usually, between 5 and 6 p.m. was her window. By late night, this spot was often taken over by a group of other vagrants, who scoured it clean.
So at this hour, there was usually nothing left for her.
Eventually, she found some tiny bits of meat. She popped them into her mouth, barely getting a taste of flavor.
"I really want some more of that barbecue…" Nora murmured, cheeks stuffed with scraps. She recalled the taste from last night—her mouth watered uncontrollably, and her stomach growled.
Her dirt-smudged little face furrowed slightly as she looked up at the second-floor window of the flower shop, where the lights were still on.
With a sigh, her gaze drifted downward—and landed on the piece of paper pasted to the wall.
She was sure that paper hadn't been there yesterday.
Curious, she moved closer under the dim streetlight and moonlight, squinting as she tried to read it.
She stared for a long time… then pouted in frustration.
She couldn't read.
Or rather, most of it she couldn't read.
She could pick out parts: "8 AM", "12 PM", "5 silver coins", "14 years old", "25 years old"…
She also recognized "Ron's Wonderful Flower Shop"—those letters matched the sign on the shop's front door. She vaguely remembered seeing them.
But the rest of the content? Total mystery.
Her stomach rumbled again.
With no better option, Nora gave up and continued her slow, limping search for food elsewhere.
In the moonlit night, she wandered the streets, dressed in a tattered cloak and a coarse linen cap, dragging her tired body along.
She searched for a long time, eventually finding enough scraps to fill herself halfway. Exhausted, she made her way back to her ramshackle shelter.
There, she pulled out a small dagger and held it tightly in her hand. Curling up on the straw mat that served as her bed, she slowly drifted into a shallow sleep.
The wind rustled the grass outside.
A faint sound whispered through the night.
Nora's eyes snapped open.
Still clutching her dagger, she lay quietly, listening intently to her surroundings—on high alert for danger.
Like a frightened little rabbit.
Even though she barely had any meat on her bones.